Chapter 17 Grayson #2
I join her in the living room before spinning to face the door I left hanging open.
The large windows in this building showcase the pristine coastline that stretches for miles on this side of the country, but the entry doors overlook the visitors’ parking lot.
It isn’t usually an appealing visual, but watching Agent Cartwright’s clumsy attempt to gather something from the trunk of her car without entering it is entertaining.
With a stomach extender hooked under her arm, Cartwright slams down the trunk of her ride and pushes the lock button on her keys, flashing orange lights into the low-level apartments.
“Are you legally allowed to drive if you can’t see over the steering wheel?”
Macy kicks me in the shin like she’s not seconds from laughing like a hyena. “I’m not sure, but I’ll ask Santa about his rules for taking the sleigh out for a spin when he comes to collect his missing elf.”
Spit flies from my mouth when I struggle to hold back a howl. It lands at the feet of Agent Cartwright when her small stature fills the doorway like she took the stairs between the parking lot and the apartment two at a time. If her wheezing is anything to go by, she did.
After taking in my six-foot-four stuttering frame and Macy’s equaling stuttering five foot seven inches, Cartwright murmurs, “The FBI has no minimum height restrictions.” A playful glint fires through her eyes before a mischievous aura radiates from her.
“They only request that I use a booster seat while driving.”
I lose the ability to hold in my laughter. I howl like a wolf, and Agents Machini and Cartwright are right there with me.
My response to Agent Cartwright’s arrival makes me feel like a complete ass. Adeline knows her shit. Within an hour of reviewing the blueprints of the buildings hosting Lamaze classes tomorrow afternoon in San Diego, she had all vantage points mapped and a solid surveillance plan at the ready.
She just won’t be fronting as a mother-to-be since I don’t want any agent paired with her to face charges for solicitation with a minor.
“I think that covers everything until tomorrow.” Adeline collects her laptop and satchel from the dining table before twisting to face Macy and me. “If you have any questions, I’m right next door.”
“Huh?” Macy and I stammer out in sync.
Adeline’s brows narrow in confusion before she darts her suddenly nervous eyes to Macy. “Two units were assigned to this team.”
“Since when?” Macy’s tone is as high as her brow.
My hands ball when Adeline’s reply reaches my ears. “Since the inauguration of this assignment.”
I knew Thompson was doing everything in his power to force Macy to share his bed. He should be grateful he’s out on disciplinary action, or I would have ridden his ass so hard that he’d be as reluctant to sit as Macy is.
“How many rooms does that apartment have?” Macy asks, either out of curiosity or still unaware of her appeal. The low hang of her shoulders has my intuition swinging toward the latter.
“Just the one.” Adeline locks her eyes with mine. A hint of calculation is behind them, though not in a menacing, I’m-about-to-ruin-your-life way. “I’m happy to take the couch here if you want the apartment.”
Her offer doesn’t get a second thought from me. I’m only weeks away from possibly losing Macy for good, so I’ll hoard every single minute she’s willing to share with me. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Adeline grins like I answered exactly how she expected—with the high-pitched squawk of a prepubescent virgin.
Macy slows Adeline’s steps to the door with an offer. “We’re about to eat, if you want to join us.”
“I’m good. Thanks, though,” Adeline parrots. “I’m still full from lunch.”
Macy’s elbow gets friendly with my stomach. “That’s all the fiber Grayson thinks he’s hiding in the gravy.”
Because my ruse is exposed, I no longer hide it. “You’ll thank me in the morning when your poop slides right out without a single strain.”
Adeline giggles. The throaty gargle saves me from asphyxiation by the invisible noose I am knotting around my neck. I’m not usually the jokester of the group, and her following statement assures me I can’t be mistaken about this.
“They were wrong about you. You’re not stuck-up and self-pretentious.
” I’m tempted to ask who’s speaking shit about me until she shifts her eyes to Macy and says, “You just need the right person to bring out your strong points.” When Macy nods and smiles, wordlessly agreeing with her, she bows her head in farewell.
“Goodnight, Agent Machini.” Her eyes return to me. “Goodnight, Grayson.”
I almost pull rank until I observe how carefree her comment has made Macy. She looks like the worries of the world have finally slipped from her shoulders, and she’s breathing in unriddled air.
Macy closes the door with Adeline on the other side before meeting my gaze. “I really like her.”
“Because she backed up your claim that bed rest doesn’t necessarily mean lying down? Or because you’re finally not the shortest agent on the team?”
Her teeth graze her bottom lip. “A little bit of column A and a little bit of column B.” As quickly as her smile morphs, it disappears, and her hand shoots out to grip my shirt.
“What’s wrong?” I eyeball the hem of her dress like the baby’s head will magically appear when the timing is right. “It’s not the baby, is it?”
“No, it’s…” Her words trail off as the most beautifully organic grin cracks her lips. “He moved.”
Huh? I’m confused by her comment, and it echoes in my tone. “Moved?” Aren’t they meant to move at this stage of pregnancy? Isn’t that how women know their baby is safe and healthy?
When I express my thoughts to Macy, she peers up at me and smiles. “Moved… as in his head moved out of my…” She coughs.
Eventually, the truth hits me, and it hits hard. “Oh…” That prepubescent boy is back. Again.
He’s shoved aside for a hard ass who usually rides his junior agents’ asses when Macy murmurs, “So I guess we won’t need all those agents you ordered for tomorrow’s stings. I can—”
“No,” I interrupt, cocking a brow.
Macy follows me into the kitchen, her sluggish walk calling her out as a liar even more than her readable eyes. “But the doctor said I was on bed rest because his head was engaged. If that is no longer the case, I can help you with these stings.”
Ignoring her, I pull the marinated chicken thighs out of the oven and fetch the vitamin supplement tins from under the sink to double the thickness of Macy’s gravy.
“Grayson—”
I cut her off with a stern glare this time around.
My terms are nonnegotiable. The people we’re surrounding ourselves with tomorrow steal women’s babies from their stomachs, for fuck’s sake.
I cannot risk placing her on their radar, especially since I’m no longer seeing her baby as a that.
He’s a tiny little person who claimed a piece of my heart after only a glance of his adorable face—much like his mother.